#i can’t see a universe where he’s evil

[sketchncanto]

No more happily reunited Bruno. I want sad, lonely, isolated Bruno. ANGST ANGST ANGST!!! JK, love your work.

Y’know what? Y’all want angst?— FINE

[terastalungrad]

Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.

I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?

Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine.  According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire.  According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset.  That’s the level of news you’d expect.

The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.

The first question is about the show’s angle.  Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:

So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control. And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway. Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.

Fun!  This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.

Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.

Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.

And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).

You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times. You can see this with an act like Gervais. Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.

The journalist finally addresses this head on.  It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:

But here are my favourite bits:

[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing. There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil. In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes. He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time. And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward. [...] If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs. It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked. But he didn’t have that experience in the same way. [...] Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them. I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me. I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird. On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary. And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material.  He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).

It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material.  That’s a big taboo.  I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.

Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:

It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review. And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right. Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.

[justwannabecat]

One of those fics where Danny, as Ghost King, unconsciously regulates death. He doesn’t actually do anything himself, but if he wants he can choose to not let creatures die. And of course, when he explains that to the Justice League, they ask him to stop.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “I will do so if you want, but I want to hear you say it.”

So they say it. Danny sighs.

“Alright. It will take a lot of energy, so I will be confined to the Infinite Realms from now on. In just a few minutes, nothing will die. For now this effect will be limited to Earth, but if a month passes and there’s no objections, then I will spread the effect to the rest of the universe. Just remember, you asked for this.”

Within a week the JL sees what he means. People are in pain. They are suffering, unable to die even when ripped apart, and due to the drastic increase in patients, hospitals are overflowing, running out of supplies. Certain villains, like the Joker, have taken this opportunity to see just how much pain they can cause without allowing their victims to slip into comas.

A much more long term effect is the famine. After all, they can’t kill any animals either. It won’t be long until everyone on Earth is emaciated as well, too weak to move yet unable to die, forced to suffer for eternity.

The JL soon find their way to the Infinite Realms, Danny sitting on his throne, staring through a portal with a grim expression.

“You can stop. We understand.” The JL begged.

“I’m glad.” Danny hums. “Still, though. I don’t believe a partnership will work out. After all, nothing has changed since the Anti-Ecto acts were repealed. Death is still considered ‘evil’. I won’t terrorize you or leave my subjects to harm you, but I don’t want to go back to the world which hates my every move. No. You can return, but remember, Life is cruel. Death is a mercy.”

[beenbaanbuun]

enemies w/ wooyoung

“i can’t believe i have to share a room with you,” wooyoung spits as he dumps his bag on the floor at the side of his bed. he wastes no time in throwing himself down onto the matress, keeping a stern aye on you as you make your way inside, “out of all the people on this trip, its you.”

you scoff as you follow him, slamming the door in your wake. trust you to draw the same colour marble as him. jung fucking wooyoung. number 1 on your hit list ever since the very first time he pulled your hair in junior school. hatred may have been a strong word, but it wasn’t nearly strong enough for the way you feel about him.

and now you have to spend the next week of your life in a combined space with him. perhaps you’ve done something wrong that the universe is punishing you for. maybe it’s a curse, or some evil spirit messing with you. you’re not entirely sure, but either way you’re certain something is out for your blood.

“the couch is available if you want it,” you snarl, barely able to keep a modicum of civility when it comes to wooyoung. there’s just something about him that makes you so inexplicably mad, “you know, if you have that much of a problem with me.”

“i’m fine here, actually,” he puts his hands behind his head in a display of arrogance. it’s difficult not to go over there and slap it out of him as you move to sit on your own bed, “but you can go and sleep there if you want; you won’t find me stopping you.”

you scoff, “what exactly is your problem with me?”

it’s hypocritical of you to ask that, you know. if anyone has the problem, its you. you’re the one who’s always fought against him; eye rolls and back handed comments the only things you give him whenever he’s around you. and you’re the one who’s always arguing with him over the tiniest of things, even if you know deep down that he’s actually right. some days you can’t even find a reason behind your incessant need to hate him, but that never stops you.

he’s just so annoying.

“you’re a stuck up little princess,” wooyoung supplies with that cocky grin still spread across his face. god, what you wouldn’t do to wipe that away and put him in his place; it’s almost a desperate need that you have to knock him down a few pegs.

“anything else, youngie,” you throw the nickname at him like it’s an insult. he catches it effortlessly, chuckling at your attempt to throw him off.

“yes,” he pushes himself from the mattress, sitting himself up straight so he can look at you; look down at where you lay on the bed beside him. so cute, with your arms crossed over your chest in a petulant attempt to act tough in front of him. it doesn’t work, your little act. not with the way your arms push your tits together, making your cleavage look so fuckable. wooyoung’s dick twitches in his sweatpants, “most of my problems are about you, actually.”

cliche, you think as you roll your eyes; of course he thinks you’re the cause of all his problems. just because he doesn’t like you, doesn’t mean he has to blame everything on you.

still, you’re curious.

when he starts talking again, you’re all ears.

“like how you think you’re so tough when you’re being a condescending little brat, when actually it just makes me want to pull you over my lap and make you scream,” the words take a second to sink in, but when they do, your jaw drops. he smirks, “or when you bite your lips when you’re mad; it just makes me think about how pretty they’d look wrapped around my cock.”

you can’t help the way your eyes flicker to the crotch of his sweats. he’s hard, or halfway there at least. fucking huge too, by the looks of it. you dart out your tongue to lap at your dry lips. holy fuck, what’s happening to you.

“and do you know that i see these pretty little things in my dreams?” a single finger brushes gently over your nipple, hard and visible through the thin material of your t-shirt. you suck in a sharp breath, barely catching a moan before it slips out, “wake up covered in my own cum every single time. dream you is just such a good little slut for me.”

the hand that sits gently on your tit begins to move, climbing gently up your chest until it lands on your neck. he squeezes down lightly, your head spinning under the barely there pressure.

“it’s a shame real life you takes a little more taming, hm?” wooyoung drawls as he bends down to your level. warmth spreads across your face as your lifelong enemy blows a stream of cold air over your face, chuckling to himself when you shiver.

how the fuck had you let this happen? one second you’re sure you had the high ground, and the next you have a hand around your throat and wetness leaking from your pussy. part of you wants to fight back. spit in his face and push him away. set a boundary and let him know that this, whatever the fuck this is, will never happen.

what scares you is that an even bigger part of you is begging you to give in.

and it’s a really shame that you’ve never been very good at saying no to yourself. it makes it borderline impossible for you to listen to that ever-shrinking part of your brain that’s telling you to run.

“wooyoung,” you whisper, although youre not even sure of your next words yourself. you haven’t decided whether this is going to happen or not. whether you’re going to let him tame you like he so clearly wants to. you open your mouth, hoping to all that is holy that you make a good choice.

“what do you want, baby?”

“fuck me,” you say.

oh…

“such a good girl.”

[theeoriginals]

Idea: Reader is part of the scooby gang (an adult doing them a favour or something - pls not a teenager it makes me cringe) and Klaus catches her staring (because obviously) and is cocky and flirty and likes riling her up

i just like you | klaus mikaelson

author's note; this was so fun omfg i love him sm

warnings: honestly sort of grumpyxsunshine but somehow klaus is the sunshine here ? teasing, taunting, klaus is a flirty menace, reader is super in denial, implied that reader is a vampire hunter but it's not really important, also this exists in some sort of strange canon universe so don't read into it too much, fluff, making out, a steamy-ish scene at the end, but it doesn't get too graphic so don't worry! no use of y/n!

She doesn’t like owing people favors. She doesn’t like when other people owe her favors, either, but people seem to think that trading things off is the best way to live, and she’s hardly got the power to change something so universally accepted. 

She doesn’t like owing people favors, but in this case, it’s not something she can renegotiate. Alaric saved her life, and the least she could do is help him out with something. 

Her view on that changes very quickly when he looks at her and tells her they want her to make a deal with the devil. In fact, she’d rather Alaric had just let her die than ask her to do anything with or for Klaus Mikaelson. 

“I would quite literally rather die than do that, Ric,” She deadpans, givin him a completely unamused look that makes him grimace. 

“No, I know, I know,” He holds his hands up, a desperation to his pleading tone. “It’s a lot to ask of you, but no one else can deal with him like you do. They’d end up dead, or something,” 

“Why do you think I can deal with him any differently than you, or Damon, or something? I hate him just as much!” 

“Oh, well, that’s just not very nice of you, darling,” The man in question drawls, smirk audible in his voice as they look over to where he’s sitting on Alaric’s couch, looking like he practically lives there. She supposes he technically did, for a minute. “Hate is such a strong word.” 

She gives him a saccharine smile, tilting her head. “I’m so sorry, Klaus, did I hurt your feelings? I didn’t know that evil hybrids who kill anyone who breathes wrong could have feelings.” 

Klaus’s smirk only widens at her visible ire, and he props his chin up on his hand as he looks at her. “I have every feeling for you, sweetheart,” 

Her eyes momentarily widen to the size of dinner plates, and then she quickly schools her expression back into a flat glare, snapping her gaze away from him as she huffs unhappily. “You want me to deal with that all day, Alaric? By myself? I thought we were friends,” 

“We are friends,” He stresses, shooting Klaus a warning look that the Original dutifully ignores. “That’s why I’m asking you to do this. All you have to do is make the drive up to Whitmore and get the rest of Isobel’s stuff– we need to see if she has any information on the cure, or anything like that.” 

“Doesn’t Bonnie have that professor guy that was telling her a bunch of stuff? Can’t we just go to him?” 

“Damon doesn’t trust that guy,” Alaric says. “And before you ask, no, you can’t make Damon go. He and Klaus will kill each other if they’re in the same vehicle for that long.” 

“He’s right about that,” Klaus says, still happily in his place on the couch. “Damon’s got such a temper these days. Can’t even handle a joke anymore.” 

She scrunches her face up, giving him an incredulous look. “The only jokes you make are about the time you tried to kill Elena,” 

“How would we cope if we couldn’t make jokes about these sorts of things?” 

Her incredulity only deepens and she drags her gaze back to Alaric pointedly, earning an exhausted sigh from the teacher. “Klaus,” He starts, that same desperation still in his voice. “Can we all just play nice? For once we have something to be united about– could you possibly not jeopardize everyone’s lives again?” 

Klaus heaves a sigh, standing from the couch in a swift movement and crossing the short distance to where they stand. “Certainly. I’m nothing if not professional, you know this.” 

“Uh huh,” Alaric deadpans. “Can you be… professional enough to not provoke her into leaving you stranded somewhere, or something?” 

“I’m sure we can work something out,” The hybrid drops his gaze to hers, bright eyes alight with mischief. “So long as she stops pouting.” 

She huffs, dutifully not pouting. Narrowing her eyes, she offers a hand out to him, ignoring the amusement that sparks in his eyes at her formalness. “It’s for the greater good of all of us, right? I’m sure I can suffer through anything for that.” 

Klaus shakes her hand firmly, and she ignores the way it feels like he’s laughing at her. “I’m sure you can.” 

────── 

“I take it all back, I’m going to murder him, and then myself.” 

“Hello to you, too. I take it it’s going well?” Alaric’s voice comes through the speaker of her phone as she walks beside Klaus, ignoring the crowds of college students they’re pushing their way past to head to Isobel’s old office. 

“Oh, it’s going so well, besides the fact that our vehicle just broke down as soon as we got to Whitmore.” 

She can practically hear Alaric’s wince of sympathy through the phone. “Can’t Klaus just compel you another vehicle?” 

“You would think so, but I already tried that, and he said it wouldn’t be very cooperative of him to take advantage of people. He’s apparently all for the teamwork these days,” She shoots him a glare, face twisting into one of disdain when all he does is give her a wide smirk. “Alaric, I cannot be stranded here with him. It was one thing if it was a few hours, but I cannot survive any longer than that.” 

Alaric breathes out her name on an exasperated sigh, and she tries to ignore the slight pin prick of guilt that stabs at her because of it. “Have you called a mechanic or anything?” 

She bites the tip of her tongue roughly. “Yeah. They’re coming to tow it, and they said it’ll be like, tomorrow morning at the earliest before it’s done.” 

“Can you survive the night? For real? Or do you want me to drive up there and get you?” 

She nearly blurts out that she won’t survive, that he needs to come get her as soon as he leaves work, but she stops herself, eyes drifting to Klaus, who seems to be awaiting her answer as well. Sighing tiredly, she shakes her head, even though Alaric can’t see her. “I’ll be fine, I’m just being dramatic. Don’t worry about me, alright? I– Klaus and I will handle this. It’s no big deal, I promise.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m positive,” She reassures, stopping at the steps that lead to Isobel’s office building. “I’ll text you later tonight after we’ve had some time to go through some of the stuff, okay?” 

“Okay. Thank you,” He sounds infinitely less stressed at her reassurances, and the guilt she’d been feeling dissipates easily. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

She echoes the goodbye and quickly pockets her phone again, immediately turning to Klaus to give him a glare that she can’t even really call a glare because of the complete and utter lack of any real heat behind it. Gesturing widely to the building before them, she sighs. “Let’s get this over with.” 

The office is devoid of any lingering students, and she wonders if it was done on purpose. The only person there besides her and Klaus is the girl at the desk, and she racks her brain for the girl’s name, because Alaric had told her earlier before they left. 

“Hi,” She starts, stepping in front of Klaus slightly as they approach the desk. “Alaric called earlier and said we’d be coming up to get some of Isobel’s research, I think?” 

The girl stands, a small smile on her face as she nods. “Of course. I’m Vanessa, I was Isobel’s intern.” 

Vanessa, she internally scolds herself for not remembering, before giving her name back in return. “And this is Klaus.” 

The Original offered a charming smile, and she saw some degree of recognition flutter in Vanessa’s eyes as her smile grew wider, equally charmed and awed. “Lovely to meet you, Vanessa,” 

“You’re Klaus Mikaelson, aren’t you?” She breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief as she leads them to Isobel’s private office. “Isobel was fascinated  with the story of the Originals, but there wasn’t ever enough information to figure out what was true and what wasn’t.” 

Klaus hums, practically preening under the attention. “Such are the consequences of living as long as I have. I can hardly remember what’s real and what’s not,” 

Vanessa’s face lights up with an idea, and she steps towards Klaus excitedly. “Would you mind if I asked you some questions? It would do our research a lot of good to have something new,” 

“Oh, well–” 

“We have a lot to do,” She quickly cuts in over their voices, offering a sharp smile to Vanessa. “But if we have time later, I’m sure he’d love to give you a tell-all interview.” 

Vanessa’s smile dims slightly but she nods, gesturing for them to go into the open office. “It’s all in there. Let me know if you need my help with anything.” 

“We will definitely do that,” She says, ignoring the twitch in her fingers as pushes Klaus into the office ahead of her. “Thank you so much!” 

She shuts the door firmly behind her and lets out a sharp sigh, her eyes fluttering open where she hadn’t even realized they’d shut. She finds Klaus staring at her, and immediately looks away, ducking past him to head for one of the packed boxes in the office, collecting dust. “What?” 

Klaus makes an amused little hum in the back of his throat. “Oh, nothing,”

“There’s clearly something,” 

“There is, but I don’t think you’d enjoy hearing it from me,” 

She halts her movements, hands falling limp on the file folders sorted neatly inside one box. Turning to look at him over her shoulder, she raises a brow. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m curious as to what Vanessa did to earn your disdain,” He says, shrugging lightly, keeping his voice purposefully aloof. 

She rolls her eyes, returning to pilfering through the box, skimming the labels on the file. “She was distracting you. We came here to do something, and we need to do it. That’s all.” 

He makes that irritating noise again, and she pauses once more, this time turning to face him fully. “What? What is so funny about that? Might I remind you, we need to learn about this cure for you just as much as anyone else.” 

He smirks, picking up a box from the floor and putting it on the table in front of him. “Of course. But only if you admit you were jealous,”

She feels the blood in her veins freeze as she stares at him, and she knows there’s a dawning look of horror growing on her face. “Excuse me?” 

“Just admit that you were jealous of that poor girl in there, and I will do as much research as you want me to. It’s very simple.” 

“Jealous,” She echoes, her voice faint the longer she looks at him. “You think that I was jealous because some college kid was treating you like you were the lead singer in her favorite boy band?” 

“Maybe not her favorite boy band, but certainly her favorite Original,” He corrects, grinning deviously. 

“I wasn’t jealous!” She yells somewhat hysterically, face twisting as her pulse races. “I– I have no reason to be jealous, I would never be jealous, I’m not– I’m not jealous! Just– shut up!” 

She waves a hand in his direction, ignoring the warmth in her chest that stings like embarrassment. “Just– shut up, and– and leave me alone! Do what we came here to do,” 

Klaus holds his hands up in surrender, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Whatever you say,” 

────── 

They’ve booked a hotel for the night, despite the fact that she’d sooner sleep on the street than stay in a hotel with Klaus Mikaelson. But he graciously offered to pay for it, and she was determined to pretend like their conversation earlier had never happened and that meant acting like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

It meant letting him order them room service, and sitting quietly while they ate. It meant letting him tease and taunt her like he normally did, and working overtime to give him the normal reactions she would have– a glare here and there, a not-so-nice name everywhere else. 

Except now it felt like it was all wrong. It felt like she was being even more obvious than before. All because he called her out. Because he was right. 

Just out of sheer principle, she couldn’t ever tell him that. The last thing he needed was that particular ego boost, from her of all people. 

Their relationship has always been antagonistic, but Klaus has never been nearly as harsh as she has. And now that she’s spent the last six hours thinking about every single interaction they’ve ever had, she feels somewhat stupid for not even letting herself contemplate the idea that she could one day be jealous over Klaus Mikaelson. 

But even in that same vein, she understands why it never crossed her mind until he pointed it out. It was non-negotiable, having any sort of relationship like that with Klaus. She’d been friends with Alaric since he first met Isobel, she couldn’t just go and sleep with the guy who killed his girlfriend, let alone have feelings for him. 

The thought alone made her stomach swirl with guilt, but she was determined to not let Klaus in on any of her inner turmoil, considering he’d get some insane satisfaction out of the fact that it’s all his fault. 

By the time they make their way to the private bedroom in the ridiculously grand hotel room Klaus had gotten them for the night, it doesn’t really register in her mind that they not only don’t have any sort of pajamas due to the fact that this wasn’t supposed to be an overnight trip, but the only bedroom in the suite has one bed. 

It doesn’t register in her mind until she’s already in bed, resigned to the fact that she’ll be sleeping in her t-shirt and underwear, and Klaus makes his way over to the bed like it’s no big deal. 

“Hey, hey, what the hell are you doing?” 

He raises a brow at her, gesturing to the bed. “Going to bed. We’ve got an early morning ahead of us if you have any chance of making it back to Mystic Falls alive.” 

She rolls her eyes at his taunting recollection of her complaints, and she holds up a hand, keeping the blankets tucked carefully around her hips as she sits up. “Why wouldn’t you get a room with two beds?” 

“Because it’s one night, darling,” He drawls, signature smirk twitching on his lips. “But if you have some particular feeling that would make sharing a bed with me uncomfortable, then I–”

“No!” She cuts him off, feeling like she was just backed into a corner. “No issue. Just– keep your hands to yourself.” 

He winks at her, and she ignores the way it makes her heart race. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” 

She shuffles back down into the bed and turns onto her side away from him, suddenly too conscious of the fact that she doesn’t have any pants on, and that if someone had told her this morning she’d be pantsless, in bed with Klaus Mikaelson, she probably would’ve punched them and then spent the rest of her life dreaming about it. 

It’s only slightly humiliating. 

Once Klaus is settled in the bed, presumably undressed to the same degree she is if the shuffling she’d heard a minute ago was anything to go by, he turns the lamp off, encasing them in darkness. 

After too long, her hip starts to ache the longer she lays on her side, and she knows there’s no chance she’ll fall asleep with it throbbing like it is, so she resigns herself to the fact that she’s going to have to move. 

Careful of her spacial awareness, she turns onto her back, and then onto her other side, unable to stop her eyes from landing on the shadows of Klaus’s profile. 

She lets out a small breath, shakier than normal, and clutches her hand against the pillow beneath her head. 

“You’re staring,” 

She groans quietly. “I am not,” 

“You know, I don’t know if I should be honored or not that you don’t act like this with anyone else.” 

She squeezes the pillow again, brows furrowing on her forehead. Her curiosity piqued, despite her best interests. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you’re horrifically antagonistic on a good day, and downright murderous on a bad one. But you don’t ever lose your temper with anyone else like you do with me,” He observes, voice unintentionally quiet in the privacy of the darkness. If she didn’t know any better, she’d even say it was laced with fondness. 

Pressing her face into her pillow briefly to try and collect herself, she lets her eyes trace the curve of his nose, and his prominent cupid’s bow, backlit by the moon shining in the window. She wonders what he looks like beneath a full moon. She wonders if his eyes shine that burning yellow-gold color the entire night. 

“You do it on purpose,” She mutters, trying to keep her tone from sounding as childish as it does in her head. “I’m not stupid, Klaus. You like riling me up.” 

She hears more than sees his head turn towards her, but she feels the burn of his eyes on her face like the summer sun. 

“Did you ever consider that I just like when you talk to me?” He asks, sounding entirely more vulnerable than she ever thought he was capable of being. 

Her breath stutters on an exhale, and she knows he can hear the way his words make her entire body trip up. Despite being unable to truly meet his eyes in the dark, she searches for them anyway, seeking out the truth that may lie in them. 

He murmurs her name, soft and sweet between the sheets wrapped around them, and she can’t stop herself from pushing forward into his space, draping herself across his chest as she presses their lips together. 

She’s instantly satisfied to hear the shocked noise that spills from his lips, but it’s the last coherent thought she can form once he mirrors her utter desperation. 

He steals the breath from her lungs, barely letting her gasp between his greedy kisses, his hands pulling her further into him, leaving her practically on top of him. 

His hands slide up the fabric of her shirt, grabbing at the bare skin there, groaning at the feel of her moving beneath his touch. 

“Klaus,” She gasps out, panting at the spit-slick sounds of their lips together in the quiet of the hotel room. “Klaus, I have to–” 

She forcibly pulls herself away from him, unable to even blame him for the way she let herself get so caught up as she catches her breath, looking down from where she’s propped above him. 

They fall silent, matching each other’s frantic but slowing breaths as their spilled-over tension finally seems to simmer out. 

A huff of a laugh comes from beneath her and she frowns slightly, looking at him. “What?” 

His hands clench where they’re still gripping her waist, and she visibly shivers at the rough touch. “You were jealous, weren’t you?” 

She instinctively slaps a hand against his bare shoulder, wondering how she hadn’t noticed he’d taken his shirt off when he got into bed. “You are such a dick,” She shakes her head, but she’s already leaning back in to kiss him again despite herself. 

Klaus is quick to meet her halfway, craning his neck up to kiss her again, and she lets out a sudden yelp as he flips them around, pressing her into the mattress beneath him. “Let me make it up to you,” 

She’s nodding before he even finishes speaking, and she thinks, tells herself, that she can’t be faulted for how quickly she forgives him after that.

[pynkgothicka]

Ｇａｎｇｓｔａ ＪＪＫ

Ask/Req-Should do one where OC basically gets taught all her life skills from Jungkook(maybe) and he can mold her anyway he wants- wether it’s cute and innocent, or just oblivious. Maybe OCs parents were never hands on in the slightest and that left her to group up with only Jungkook there for her

Synopsis- Jungkook’s soft spot is you. The love of his life, someone who was given to him and will love him forever and through all his days.

Pairing - Yandere! Dark! Mobster! Jungkook x AFAB! Reader

Featuring - No one!

Tags and Warnings - Murdered Parents, hints towards a dark relationship, some smut

Authors Note - This took me so long! I’m sorry guys!!

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Jungkook was the kindest guy you had ever met. He was easily the love of your life. Even if you were in college with no one else, there was nobody in comparison to him. How he shielded you from the world he preached about being so evil, the man who saved you from your family. Jungkook would go leaps and bounds for you.

You stood in deep thought, awaiting his arrival to get you from the university grounds, the icy winter air swirling around you. At last, you perked up to only hear the rumble of Jungkook's loud motorcycle engine.

You smile as you see him whip his motorcycle into the parking lot. His leather jacket and ripped denim only make the man you adore even more attractive. His bike slows down in front of you; he takes off his helmet, revealing his black hair.

His shirt was covered in sweat as he gave you a signature smile. “Hey baby, I'm sorry I was late."Hey baby, sorry I'm late," he said, shifting to let you on. You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back.

You mumble softly, "It's okay, I know you won't forget about me." You take a deep breath of his jacket, the scent a mixture of weed and spearmint. The odor would make others nauseous, but you find it comforting and familiar. “I just can’t wait to make it back to your place.”

🏍️

Jungkook fed you cotton candy grapes as you lounged in his apartment, making sure to cater to his one and only. With one hand scrolling mindlessly through his phone, his other hand brought the grapes to your lips, the tips of his tattooed fingers brushing over them each time, eliciting giggles from you with the sweet gesture.

Jungkook's loving gaze met yours, and he smiled. "Are you staying the night again?" he asked, putting his phone down to give you his full attention - something he had done for most of his life.

"I'm not sure if my parents are home right now," you say quietly to your boyfriend. “Besides I don't want to go home, my dad's being well himself again.” His gaze turns soft with understanding, and he feeds you another grape to sweeten the sorrowful moment. As the sweetness spreads across your tongue, you feel the sadness fading away. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap. His hands trace the curve of your body tenderly.

He understood how your parents mistreated you, ignoring you to indulge themselves as if you didn't belong to them. Yelling at you and shoving you aside to satisfy their desires - that was typical of mafia parents, and he would know. But now he led his gang, and he vowed he'd never treat you as cruelly as others had. He always made sure to distract you when your mind wandered to such thoughts.

While kissing your neck, he slid his hands over your backside, eliciting a blissful yet pleading whine from you. "Koo, remember no hickeys," you said softly. With a sigh, he detached himself from you.

“Fine no hickies, but I want to ruin you, baby.” He says snickering and pulling off your shirt. his mouth attaches to your breast as he moans around it. His lips suck on your areola, tongue lapping at the exposed breast. You let out languid moans as your hands go to his shirt, pulling it over his head as he pulls away. His eyes stared at you as you looked back panting.

You go to unhook your bra, revealing yourself to Jungkook. “I'm so needy for you.” You mutter into his neck littering the skin with kisses and hickies. He lets out a groan, his hands moving to dig into your ass. Small crescents form and you let out a lewd groan. “Don’t ever leave me Koo…”

"You know I could never replace you, for no one could ever be good enough to take your place," he said poetically, connecting your lips once again.

🏍️

After fulfilling his promise to ruin you, Jungkook put you to bed as he had urgent business to attend to. Not wanting you anywhere near his work, he made sure to leave you be. With a kiss on your forehead and lending you his jacket for comfort, he left.

Jungkook sat in a chair, glaring at your parents, whom he had kidnapped and brought to the base of his operations. As your mother stirred awake, his eyes narrowed. "Welcome back to reality," Jungkook sneered as he approached her chair.

"Jungkook? What the fuck is this?" Your mother hissed angrily. She tettered in her chair. He smiles as he places his finger on her lips. He then pulled out a gun and shot her dead in the head. He never had a problem with her, nothing too serious to be upset about. The quicker she was gone, the easier things could be.

But him.

He was the one who neglected the person to whom he had devoted all of his life. So, with his wife gone, everything would be much more satisfactory when he made him pay.

Speaking of, he watched as your dad stirred awake. His eyes went to the side of him seeing his wife was dead, a bullet going straight through her head. “God no. Please no… not her.” He mumbled before struggling in his seat.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” Jungkook mumbled going behind him. His hand went to the back of your father's neck, the grip hurting before he started to squeeze. “Seems kind of unfair doesn’t it?”

Your dad started to rage internally. “Y-You killed her? Why we gave you everything you could've ever wanted, shit you practically own my daughter what more could you want?” He said as soon as Jungkook's grip let up. He watched in horror as the man just laughed, all Jungkook could do was laugh in his face.

“You still hurt her though. How could you just leave your daughter like that… just having to settle with being around me? You are actually kind of lucky that she loves me. But I mean it's not like she spent any time with anyone else.” Jungkook started to walk around your father, taunting him with nothing but his thoughts. “She loves me, practically worships the ground I walk on. I mean thats a benefit for me, but pretty shitty for you. I get to finally kill you for all the pain you caused her.”

Your father started to scream and Jungkook allowed him. But finally, he had enough before stuffing the man's mouth with a towel filled with gasoline. “Scream and you’ll choke. I mean no one heard you but it got annoying pretty quickly. Now Shh, and let me do what I have to do.”

🏍️

“Koo? Where did you go?” You mumbled feeling strong arms wrap around you. You leaned into his touch groaning at the comforting feeling of his skin on yours.

“Had to take care of something, sorry for leaving.”

“It's fine, just tell me beforehand.”

“Of course, I love you.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops

[darkcircles4lyfe]

To Build Something Else

Whenever I read a fanfiction that takes place in the future where the hero kids continue their schooling as normal and emerge as pro heroes into the existing system, I always kinda view it as like, “AU where things weren’t as bad” or “AU where everyone is still pretending that this is the way things should be” or “AU where good and evil are morally uncomplicated.” I’m not trying to call anybody out—I’ll still read and enjoy these sometimes—but that’s how I’ve always looked at it. I’m starting to notice other people feeling it too. I’ve read fics where they point out how redundant and unfair it is to go back to being students after saving the world (remember how many pros straight up quit and left a bunch of kids to keep fighting?). I’ve seen people acknowledge how trauma will affect their ability to keep going. Perhaps the trickiest thing to wrap our heads around is how the villains will fit into it all if not through death, punishment, or imprisonment. What about all the other trappings of society? The heavily regulated quirk use, the government-funded pros aiding police control and contributing to cover-ups that maintain the illusion of peace. Hero idolization, quirk counseling, civilian helplessness. Judging a person’s worth or character based on their quirk…

It would sound too obvious and cheesy to simply point out that society isn’t “just the way things are,” that change is possible. We all know this, and yet we struggle to pinpoint exactly where to aim our sights, find the source, make any meaningful progress. The other day I read some articles from my university’s student newspaper around 1970, and it made me feel sick wondering if progress is really an illusion. Fact is, it’s easy to intellectually deconstruct society, but very difficult to imagine how to build something else.

In this fictional world, heroes have offered a mythical vision of safety and triumph. When All Might arrived, everything was going to be okay. But let’s not forget how this story began: with a moment where All Might paused, like a bystander, and in his place, a desperate civilian kid hurtled forward without any common sense. If you ask me, it wasn’t that Izuku was so good and pure and selfless, it was that he disregarded everything.

And so the person who “saves the world” (if we can even reduce it to such a concept) is not the person who puts everyone at ease and makes crowds cheer. It’s the person who makes everyone hold their breath, with a feeling in the air like the pressure changed, and it smells like rain. It is natural to be worried about the future. It’s honest. It means you can see what’s really going on. Hero society has never felt this exposed, but the people are held back from the edge of despair because there is also so much potential brewing. Electricity about to strike. The world will NOT go back to the way it was, no matter what. That much is certain. But what if we still live to see the dawn? What then? What if one person’s courage to break the mold makes all the difference?

I’m not just talking about Izuku, you know. I’m talking about Horikoshi.

To an extent, I’ve given up on predicting how exactly things will play out, because if nothing else, I can tell he’s planning something big—so big, I can’t quite picture it. I’m watching and waiting for the one person who can. I just know where he’s coming from. I think about how he’s never come this far before because his other stories were snuffed out. I know he used to struggle to see the future of his career. I relate to his stubbornly rebellious resolve to do what he wants anyway. To keep dreaming. I know that emotional sincerity is his specialty. And now he’s even directly breaking the fourth wall, having characters talk about what’s supposed to happen in comic books. Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, we’ve been shown how something else can happen. He’s not done yet.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello! I hope you are doing okay :)

I am not sure if requests are open, but if it is;

Can I please request Stronger Reader x Gojo, where the reader is almost perfect with everything (beauty etc) and comes from another universe? It would be funny if they were annoyed with each other at first, but then slowly became friends and then maybe Gojo having one side crush xD?

Close win for your great idea, so there you go! Please let me know what you think as I'm not 100% satisfied with how it turned out...Enjoy <3

Golden girl

Pairing: Gojo x stronger!fem! reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: Satoru Gojo really hates everything about you, especially the fact that you are stronger than him. Is it even possible to get along with you, let alone like you?

Warnings: Language, Gojo is pretty mean from time to time, kinda enemies to lovers, but no real fluff

He fucking hated it with every fiber of his heart. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you looked, the way you smiled, the way your powers are so enormous. Why on earth do you have to be so fucking perfect in everything you’re doing? You came into his life like a meteorite, crushing his confidence in an instant with your outstanding abilities, charm and beauty. Like a supernova, you emerged everything that he stood for and just made it…better.

“This is way too funny”, Yuji gasps while clinging onto Nobara’s sobbing shoulder for dear life.

“I’m telling you it’s true!”, you demand, your very own voice shaking in laughter.

Even Megumi can’t hold back a little laughter for any longer. Gojo’s eyes darken as he crosses his arms over his chest. You have some fucking nerve, coming in here “from another continent” like you said, almost surpassing him in everything he’s been doing for years. Fuck, he is the strongest, he has always been the strongest. Who do you think you are to steal his life away from him?

“Actually not, no”, he grumbles under his breath, eyes darted towards your perfect falling hair.

“What’s up with that face, Gojo? Did you not sleep well?”, you questions, gaze of innocence piercing through him.

His blood begins to boil in an instant, he sees nothing but red. The way your big round eyes seem to stare right through him with a slight hint of tease glittering in them makes him want to shoot a bit of hollow purple your way.

“Since you’re here, I’m actually feeling bad all the time, golden girl”, he remarks sharply.

You can’t help but let out a little giggle. You have nothing against Gojo Satoru. In fact, you really do admire him, his abilities and personality. However, it seems like he isn’t so keen about meeting you. You’ve been here for a while now and his behavior towards you is as terrible as always.

“Evil tongues could say that you are…jealous of me, Gojo-bear”, you reply with damped voice.

“Jealous of you!?”, he breathes out.

His fast and enormous steps close the distant between your bodies in an instant, his hateful gaze hollowing above you like a fatal shadow.

“Time to get going guys”, Megumi murmurs.

“I am the strongest, remember that brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“You were the best, Gojo. Now I’m here. So get out of the sun for me, will you?”, you bite back, very own words dripping in venom.

If he’s treating you like shit, you’ll definitely do the same. You’re way too fucking tired to let him do this to you.

“We will see”, he spits at you.

With one last hateful glance in your direction, he turns around and simply walks away.

Wow, what an asshole. __________________________________________________________

“Would you mind getting out of the way so I’m able to do my job?”, you snap at no other than Gojo Satoru.

“You can’t do this alone, (y/n)”, he shouts over the deafening noises of battle.

Bullshit. You’re slaying curse by curse so effortlessly that it hurts his eyes. He hates to admit it, but you make it look so damn easy – too easy for his liking.

“I’m doing perfectly fine Gojo. Are you worried about me?”, you tease him while demolishing a curse with the blunt force of your little finger.

“Worried about you, that I don’t laugh. I give zero shits about you”, he screams into your direction without hesitation.

“It’s actually mutual, asshole!”

“Why are they so mean to each other? I have never seen Gojo-sensei leash out like that, but when it comes to (y/n) he seems like a different person”, Nobara comments, eyes hypnotized by your moves.

“I think it bothers him that she’s stronger than him. I mean, being told you’re the strongest your whole life just for a random woman to show up and steal your spotlight sound pretty rough to be honest”, Yuji guesses.

“Why the hell do you have to be so damn mean? I did nothing to deserve your hate towards me, what is your fucking problem?”, you yell at him, body trembling in pure rage while still fighting off curses.

“Everything about you is disgusting, that is my problem!”

His words hit you like a wall. How on earth did it come this far? What did you do to make him this upset? Jujutsu High is your refuge in a world that failed to understand you for so long, you thought you finally made it. But this? This…is not fair. In fact, you are too good to keep up with this bullshit.

“Listen up Satoru.”

Gojo’s heart skips a beat when you call him by his first name. You’ve never done this, always calling him by his last name or stupid nicknames. He was never Satoru to you except for now, when your voice is dripping in venom and your dangerous eyes are darted towards him in a way he has never seen before.

“What the hell is your problem, huh? I’ve never done something to deserve the way you treat me like shit. I came here because I thought I’ll finally find people that understand me, who accept me the way I am. It’s not my fault that I’m stronger than you, you hear? Instead of making me feel like shit, you should think about training in order to become better than me, don’t you think? Being the strongest also means being able to admit your weaknesses. It pains me that you reject me so vehemently.”

For him, time stands still. Your glistening eyes show nothing but sorrow, his very own reflection staring down at him in guilt. Fuck, why do your words cut through him like a knife? Why does it have to be so true? Is there a reasonable explanation behind the way he acts towards you? He can’t put a finger on it. Damn, all of this just because you broke his ego so violently? He shakes his head, gaze drifting away from your intense stare.

“Whatever. Seems like you don’t need me here anyway. I’m leaving.”

You can’t help but sign heavy as you watch him leave in the matter of a split second. Why does it have to be so damn hard to like him? Everything would be so much easier if the two of you would just get along.

You clench your hands into fists, gaze hardening. It’s not your fault though. You tried and tried to get to him, to show him that you are better off as a team, that there is absolutely no reason to fight. This is ridiculous. And you’ll do hell to beg him on your knees to fucking like you.

“Let’s get this over with and go home”, you shout towards your students.

Fuck Satoru Gojo for now. After all, you’re still having a job to do. ___________________________________________________________

“Efficient as always”, Shoko comments while stitching up a small wound on Megumi’s forehead.

“Don’t flatter me, that’s my job”, you quickly reply.

“Seems like you’ve got hurt yourself.”

You desperately fight against the urge to roll your eyes at the sound of his damp voice behind Shoko. What the hell is he doing here?

“Yeah? I didn’t even notice”, you remark dryly, gaze fixed on his shamelessly attractive face.

Why does he have to be such a decent looking man, especially when you know that deep down, he has a good heart?

He crosses the room in just a few steps and stretches out his index finger.

“Right here”, he mutters, touch brushing against your forehead tenderly.

“Oh, he’s right. Just a little scratch though”, Shoko confirms casual.

You can’t help but hold your breath. This is the first time since the two of you met that he didn’t insult you after one normal sentence. Even his face isn’t twisted in disgust. On the contrary, his features are gently outlined. It almost looks as if he…cares.

“Thanks for noticing. One of the attacks probably hit me slightly when I wasn’t paying full attention.”

“So you too are fallible, huh golden girl?”, he teases you mildly.

“As we all, Satoru”, you reply with a sly grin.

You can’t explain why it suddenly feels so different, nothing happened between your last fight and now. But something definitely changed. You can tell by the way he wears himself and the unusual softness that radiates from his voice that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t hate you as intensely as he did anymore. And this observation fills your chest with nothing but warmth.

“Hey um…Would you mind…Training with me?”, he stutters.

Your ears must play tricks on you. Did he really ask you that? Are you dreaming? The Satoru Gojo is standing in front of you and talks to you very nicely. And now, to top it all off, he even asks you about a training session? What the hell has gotten into him?

“I mean…Sure thing we can. I already asked you about that for over a year…”

He shifts his weight while avoiding your gaze, a slight brush creeping up his cheeks. Satoru Gojo is embarrassed. This is too good to be true.

“Meet me at 4. See ya.”

And with that, he turns on his heels and leaves the room as fast as he came while you stare at the door without moving an inch. Somebody has to pinch you. What changed? How did he go from “I fucking hate you more than anything in the entire universe” to “I might consider to spend time with you”? You shake your head out of your trance. Doesn’t matter why or how. What matters is that this might be the chance to finally get along with him after months of spitting venom at each other. You really still dislike him, the thought of his annoying voice alone makes your body shiver in annoyance, but someone has to be the bigger person.

And that person is you. ____________________________________________________________

“You’re late”, you comment while stretching your back.

“Good things take time”, he replies with a cheeky grin.

He takes off his blindfold and you can’t help but take in the gorgeous sight of his striking orbs. You don’t see them often, to be exact you only catch a glimpse of them when he fights. To a neutral eye, Satoru must be the man of every woman’s dream: handsome, well educated, mischievous and flirty. But to you, he is nothing but irritating. Even though you can’t deny the fact that he looks good as hell.

“Enjoying the view (y/n)?”

You let out a disregarding snort before you are able to stop yourself.

���Don’t be ridiculous, Gojo. I’m not one of your girls and I’ll never be.”

“I wouldn’t want you as one of my girls anyway, you’re way too feisty.”

Something inside you snaps at the sound of his stupid comment, facial expression dropping to the floor. He has some nerves, talking to you like that when he’s supposed to train with you in a few minutes.

“I will wipe the floor with your ass.”

A swift motion is enough to knock him off his feet. Good, that’s exactly where he belongs.

“You know that was pretty unfair, right?”, he mumbles and rubs his butt.

“Life is never fair I guess.”

“Trust me, I know that better than you.”

You can see the way his expression drops after throwing his words at you. The first thing you feel is…sorrow. It must have been hard for him to give up his place as the strongest to the hands of a random stranger. You came into his life so fast that he didn’t even have time to get to know you.

“I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, Satoru. I just want to let you know that I never hated you.”

He stops in his tracks, fist only inches away from your face with his eyes widen in visible irritation.

“Satoru, I…I don’t want you to hate me. I see the way you treat all the others and it makes me kind of jealous…”, you confess.

“You’re a pain in the ass, (y/n)”, he replies dryly.

Silence hangs between the two of you, your eyes are glued to the concrete underneath. How stupid it was to think that something might change after over a year of him hating and avoiding you. You tried over and over to win his heart, to show him that you are a lovable person, but it seems like none of this matters.

“But maybe giving this a chance won’t hurt.”

Your eyes lock with his bright blue orbs, a grin creeping up his face. He never smiled like this at you before, your heart begins to flutter uncontrollably in your chest. Does this mean…?

“So you don’t hate me?”

“Woah, easy there. I’m only here because I want to learn from you. Nothing else”, he responses along with shaking his head vehemently.

You can’t help but gift him with a wide grin. That’s more than enough.

_____________________________________________________________ Bonus

“(y/n)’s coming”, Megumi mumbles between two bites.

“What? Do I look good? Does my hair sit right?”, Satoru frantically hisses while pulling at his uniform.

His heart beats out of his chest. Over the past months, he got to know you better, to catch a glimpse of your heart. Turns out you aren’t only shamelessly gorgeous, smart and powerful, but a wonderful person in general. All the negative feelings he had towards you turned into something completely different.

“And you say you don’t have a crush on (y/n), huh? That I don’t laugh.”

“Hi Megumi and Satoru! How are you doing?”, you greet them both with a welcoming smile.

“I’m fine, but Gojo-sensei has something very important to tell you.”

Satoru’s head darts towards Megumi, hands clenched into fists. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What is this about? He doesn’t have anything to tell you. Expect…That little shithead.

“Oh really?”, you question, your gaze now fixed on Gojo.

“Oh, y’know…It’s not that important anyway and you just returned from a difficult mission. I might as well just get going”, he responses and is already on the way to turn around when you grab his hand and force him to face you.

“Satoru”, you warn him.

“Just tell me what you want to tell me.”

“I was wondering if you…Want to grab something to eat with me”, he presses out.

Silence. Satoru swears he can hear his own heart hammering against his ribcage, not daring to look up at you. Did he really say that? Did he really ask such a stupid question?

“So, like a date?”

“Oh hell no, absolutely not!”, he cries out.

“Huh, too bad. Would have said yes in that chase. But if you don’t want to, I will leave now and get ready for the next lecture. See you around, Satoru.”

“W-wait, (y/n)! I didn’t mean it like that!”, Gojo calls after you.

“Wow, first you go from hating to crushing over her and now you’re even too dumb to talk to her. I thought someone like you is good in talking to girls all the time”, Megumi comments.

“Just wait until you fall in love, Megumi!”

[kugokizs]

DEVILISH | F. TOJI (m)

what was supposed to be a chill night alone turns into a fight for your life; Toji has been watching you, waiting for the best moment to strike, and he’s finally found the right time — but why are you so utterly enticing?

PAIRING: toji x fem! reader

WARNINGS: dub-con, serial killer!toji, predator and prey dynamics, mentions of murder/violence, breeding, mating press, degrading, mentions of stalking, morally grey character, dumbification, size kinkkkk, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, oh and they have sex outside… on the ground. lmk if i’m missing anything !!!

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

A/N: i honestly can’t remember if i based this off scream or scary movie but toji is a serial killer !! pls be advised, view at your own risk, pls my loves, keep yourself safe!! send me an ask or reblog if you enjoyed !! tysmm.

NOW PLAYING: all i need by lloyd, one night only by sonder, devilish by chase atlantic, & skin by rihanna.

Toji Fushiguro is a very sinister man.

He holds grudges, is very keen on practicing “eye for an eye”, and he holds dear his power over weak, vulnerable, young women. He prowls for the pleasure of it, for the thrill — to hear them beg for mercy, for one more chance. They beg on their knees as if he’s a God, the bringer of all evil, the grim reaper, the devil himself. And, Toji thinks, maybe he is. After all, who else could invoke such fear in people. Who else could cause someone to shiver just at the mention of his name? To run for the hills at any sign of danger. Who else could do what he does? No one, and that’s what makes him enjoy it even more.

Toji Fushiguro is a very sinister man, and right now he has his eyes on you. It’s been months, bumping into you at the grocery store, handing you things that you’ve dropped accidentally, holding the door open for you, dropping food on your doorstep — he’s seen it all. Late nights with friends, early morning at university, skipping lunch to study in the library… Toji has been there. Watching, waiting, prowling. Ever since the first time he saw you he’s wanted you, to add you to his ever growing collection, to keep you, to make you his. You’re his. And the only one between you both who didn’t know that yet, was you.

He has a foot buried in your grass, a cap hanging low on his head and a knife tucked inside his jacket. He makes sure to move with precision, watching out for the automated sprinklers and for any animals that might come looking. After all this time he knows the routine well. He knows when you’re staying home all night, what time you usually shower, when you eat, everything. He knows you’re a naturally anxious person, jumping at any sudden movements or noises, and he also knows you’re careless. Blasting music on flimsy headphones, falling asleep to the sound in your ear, oblivious to the world around you. Oblivious to the devil creeping on your doorstep.

He crouches down low, your blinds open just enough that he can see you plopped down on your couch with a bowl of ice cream in hand and a silly movie playing on the TV. Your legs are curled up, oversized pajama pants falling over the soles of your feet, and your attention solely on what’s playing in front of you. Toji’s been inside your house before, on the rare days where he wasn’t following you around he made his way through the place, memorizing the layout, seeing which rooms were the most lived-in, taking his time to appreciate your bedroom and all it had to offer. Drawers upon drawers of lingerie greeted him when he peaked inside — he didn’t think you had it in you. His fingerprints would’ve been all over the place if not for gloves, his face on every camera if he hadn’t known all the blindspots. And thank God you didn’t have cameras inside, because then it’d only make it harder for him, and if you wanted something a little less painful when your time was up, it was best you didn’t piss him off.

Though Toji thinks he might play with you a bit. You’re interesting, just anxious enough to get by yet careless and reckless enough to get caught in a stupid situation. You’re pretty — innocent in the sexiest way possible. You look like you’d go dumb for a taste of his cock and that’s exactly what he likes most about you, but he knows you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and he appreciates that, too.

The moon shines a ghastly glow over his features right as the end credits of the movie start to run, and that’s when he decides it’s time to play. He picks up a smooth, round, pebble — no bigger than a quarter, and throws it so that it hits the window pane. He crouches down just the smallest bit lower, eyes peeking over the blinds and he trusts the darkness to obscure him. He knows that you won’t ever get close enough to actually look through them, and he’s right. Always so easily frightened, like a little lamb. You freeze where you’re sitting, head whipping around to look at where the sound came from, and you pause for only a few moments, watching and waiting to see if it comes again. At least a minute passes before you turn back to the TV, curling in on yourself and tucking your lip between your teeth.

Toji can barely stifle the giggle that threatens to leave his lips, it feels like childish glee watching you get so scared from a measly little rock against your window, but he does it again, throwing it harder now, and the sound echoes so loudly that he can hear it bounce back from inside your living room. This time you stand up, looking back towards the window and stepping forward, head tilting downwards as you try to see through the blinds. You squint at the glare from your lights and otherwise stay silent. Toji is sure your heart is beating erratically, your hands starting to shake, and he thanks God that you have so many windows. You don’t sit back down, instead looking around the room and muting the TV. You stay like that for a long time, you’ve always been so overly paranoid, and it fills Toji with immense satisfaction to know that he’s the one doing this to you.

He walks away from the window, allowing you to rotate methodically on uneasy feet and a rapidly beating heart, creeping around to the back door and picking the locks. He’s already deactivated the back camera and dropped a cat by your front porch so it didn’t seem too suspicious that you weren’t getting alerts. He knows that’s it’s rare anything ever triggers the back camera, and you feel too secure with the gate locking it from the outside. He’s easily bypassed those barriers, and now he simply opens the door. He knows you have sensors to tell you when the door has been open and shut, and he didn’t bother shutting those off. He wants to see how scared you can really get.

He shuts the door and slips into the closet, covering his lone figure with various jackets and scarves that hang from the hooks. There’s boxes and bottles of cleaning supplies piled at the bottom, and they block his legs from view. He’s still, silent, and patient. He hears your footsteps rushing towards the door, your heavy breathing, your frantic whispers of “Oh God,” and his eyes all but roll back in undeniable pleasure. He’s going to ruin you.

Your footsteps get nearer before they stop, you’re most likely looking through the window of the now closed back door, hands trembling and knees weak in fear. You’re probably on the verge of tears, barely holding in a whimper. He doesn’t hear you step away, but he can see your shadow from under the door. Hmm. You’re trying to be cautious now, are you? Toji already knows this routine. You’ll run to grab your phone, call someone, try to get in your car and drive away. Maybe grab a large kitchen knife just in case, but what are the chances of you actually using it? Toji has practice, he’s skilled, he’s used to this. You, a lone studious girl who’s paranoid but way too careless for her own good, has never stabbed anyone in her life. Has never even imagined it, so what’s the chances of you dropping the knife before it can even plunge into him? Maybe trying to get away with a scratch in the arm or a stab to the leg, but Toji has enough scars for that to not even matter. He’ll keep coming and there’ll be nowhere for you to hide.

But he’s gonna let you try, let you think there’s a chance for you to run for the hills, maybe get to some help in time, he’ll let that relieved smile flit itself upon your face before he comes back to rip that hope from your body, just to do it all over again until the fight leaves you completely. Maybe he’ll let you reach someone in time, someone innocent, and then kill them right in front of you. Make sure you realize that this is your fault, you did this, you put this innocent person in danger. You murderer. You killed them. You.

Toji realizes he has a lot to think about.

Your chest pounds with the rapid beating of your heart. Your legs barely hold your weight and threaten to crumble with every movement, shaking every time you stop and wobbling uncontrollably when you run. You grab a knife from the kitchen counter and run back to the living room and grab your phone. It all started with the random sounds coming from the window. They came out of nowhere, pounding harder and harder until they stopped completely. You had thought you saw someone moving behind the blinds but chalked it up to paranoia. It’s been raining a lot more recently, so maybe it was just the rain pouring down onto the windows.

You tried to go back to your movie after that, you had clutched your phone tightly despite reassuring yourself multiple times that it was nothing. There was nothing there. You were almost able to relax. Almost, before your security system alerted you of the back door opening. At that moment it felt like your heart had lurched out of your chest, as if the shock and fear had paralyzed and crippled you completely. The silence was suddenly too thick — too loud, and it was all you could do to attempt to heave yourself up and off the couch to investigate. You already knew you should never venture deeper, never look for the source of the sound, but you needed to see.

When you got to the back door it was already shut. You’d ventured on tippy toes to look through the small window and there was nothing there. Yet you couldn’t stop the way your breath left you in heavy gasps, the acrid smell of fear and anxiousness seeping from you in waves. You didn’t forget the closet right in front of the door, but you knew you’d never be able to open the door without shaky limbs. If there was someone in there, you’d let them leave of their own accord. You were leaving immediately. You slowly stepped away, looking up to the ceiling and clutching your lip tightly between your teeth. Sweat formed at the top of your mouth and you felt like you were going to throw up. Your throat ached, your stomach was in knots, and you felt like you could collapse at any second.

You crossed the living room with amble speed, grabbing a jacket from the hook by your front door and running outside. Rain dropped down in an angered flurry, beating the pavement with troubled fists, and your shoes were soaked with water before you could fully cross your front lawn. You scrambled to get the car door open, throwing yourself inside ungracefully. The first thing you did was look in the backseat before locking the doors and wasted no time taking off out your driveway and into the streets. You wanted to play music, blast it even, it was what calmed you always and without it you were leaving yourself vulnerable to the fear you’d been trying to ignore. You’d be able to get away — far, far, away — and sometime in the future you’d forget this night ever happened. You’d contact the authorities, move somewhere tropical maybe, and pray they never came looking.

The fear was slowly starting to easen, there were no cars following you, no weird men in the road, nothing but the stars and the moon and the lone sound of rain. You were slowly starting to relax, allowing yourself to take a few deep breaths, before a hazard sign started blaring on your dashboard.

Flat tire.

Flat tire?

You kept driving, desperate for a few more miles between you and home, but your car didn’t appreciate that, and you came to a stop. A fear-mongering, bone-chilling, stop.

You couldn’t afford to waste time, you had to keep moving. You jumped out the car, a tight grip on your knife in one hand and your phone in the other. Your feet splashed in large puddles, the streets lined with thick trees that had never looked so imposing until now. A quick look around told you that you were alone, but you couldn’t be sure. You kept moving, rushing but not moving too fast where the sounds of your splashing would drown any other noises out. Your hand curled tightly on the knife as if it was a lifeline, and your phone was inside your pocket — kept safe from the rain. Streetlights shined down from above, blinding white lights that illuminated the entire area before you, and you were grateful for it but loathed it all at the same time. Bright lights mean you could see everything around you, but it also meant anything around could see you too.

Your breath was shaky, every exhale felt like it would be your last, but you didn’t stop moving. The brushing of trees or a snap of a branch would make you jump and squeal in fear just to see it was a product of the wind or your own feet pressing against wood. Ahead you could see the shadows of houses, loud and imposing in structure, and your legs carried you faster with a new found determination. Your vision was blurry with tears of relief and raindrops that sat on your eyelashes, just to be blocked by something — something warm and soft, something sturdy, something breathing.

You couldn’t help the shrill scream that left your lips, but it was drowned out by the storm anyway. You stomped hard on his boot and sliced, not sure if you hurt him but giving yourself a chance to run away. Your legs pumped with adrenaline, your eyes wide in fright. Your grip on the knife only got even tighter, your nails embedding themselves lightly in your palm, but you had to keep going. Any noises became muffled as you ran, the sounds of trees rustling in the wind, rain slapping against the pavement, your feet slamming against the ground. His own feet moving leisurely behind you. It all became nothing but background noise to the pounding of your heart.

“There you are, little lamb.”

The whimper that leaves your lips has Toji grinning in delight. He surges forward, trapping you between strong arms and a broad chest, pressing against you tightly and dragging you backwards. You claw at his arms, kick your feet, and use the knife to slash at any part of his body that you could. You didn’t make it easy, and you could hear him growl in frustration. He tipped the knife out of your hands and then gripped your arm with a frightening intensity, you bit your lip to stop the cry of pain from leaving your mouth.

“Stop fighting.”

“Ugh, get off me!” You cried, and you bit at the skin of his arm, hard, and he pushed you off, allowing you to fall flat on your back. You groaned, rolling over on your side before a dark shadow loomed over you. You winced, your eyes shutting in fear before strong fingers gripped your chin.

“Not so fiesty anymore? We were having lots of fun,” He cooed, a devilish grin forming on his — and you hate to say it — near perfect features. The only blemish on his face was the small scar over his lips, and even that made him look attractive. You lost your breath for a short moment, staring into unforgiving eyes and at pearly white teeth, before you came back to your senses and jerked your knee upwards into a firm abdomen. When the man didn’t even bother to pretend to be hurt you did it again, but this time you used your hands to push him backwards as well. He stumbled just a little, but it was enough for you to jump to your feet and start running back in the direction you came.

“You’ll stop if you know what’s good for you,” The man grumbled, but you didn’t stop moving. You wouldn’t. You didn’t bother screaming for help this time and ran straight through unforgiving trees and underbrush. You weren’t worried about getting lost anymore and could only focus on losing him and getting away.

Except he must’ve known, because gone was the leisurely pace he’d originally held. He ran through the trees with crippling speed, and it was all you could do not to yelp in fear and keep moving. But it didn’t seem like any speed you took was fast enough, for he kept getting closer and closer. It was just your luck that you’d trip over the roots of a large tree, falling flat on your face. You attempted to scramble backwards before he could reach you, but your limbs were growing tired, your brain was ready to shut off, and not even the adrenaline could keep the paralyzing fear from your veins. you whimpered as a large hand grabbed at your ankle, dragging you through the mud and leaves.

“Come on, little lamb, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

All you could do is bite your lip to stop the whimpers and cries from flooding out. You squeezed your eyes shut, stiffening when soft lips brushed against your skin. “We can have fun, can’t we?” He murmured, and your breath left you in a shudder. Calloused hands rubbed against the skin exposed by the lift of your shirt, and small puffs of breath knocked against the shell of your ear. “Do you wanna have fun?”

Your heart kicks up an irritating notch when he slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold.

“Look at me, pretty,” He growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with desire. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a foreign feeling surging through you, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s a little awkward with your apprehension, your fear, your desire to just give up — all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. He licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into blissful dizziness.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," He hums, pressing your thighs apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again.

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your pants, slipping under the hem and unbuttoning the fabric. When he pulls your pants down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, the cold feeling of his fingers. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Toji lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold.

"Pretty little lambs deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Toji starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Aren’t you scared?” Toji murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Toji’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the bedding at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

You allow him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off your ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to press against your cheek you yelp. It’s okay. You’re okay. Right?

Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you.

A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect him— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to pleasure you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.

His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly lets his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it— looking all innocent— being all innocent but acting like you’re not. Like you’re so sure. You’re confused, God, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Toji’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at you through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dipped his head down, and your hands automatically perched themselves on his shoulders, and he grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moaned, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slight. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

He groaned, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He moved his mouth from yours to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.

One hand supported his weight on the ground by your head while the other was preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stared down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groaned. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever a boy you liked would come bother you. It intensifies when Toji wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging grass from under you.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your pussy, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you. Having him stick himself inside you.

“Relax,” Toji murmurs, pressing his mouth to your cheek. “You’re having fun, right?”

Dark eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Toji watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his forehead, and he sinks back into your inviting walls with another roll of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Toji’s chest expands with a satisfied breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known, before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper.

“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the ground below you.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Toji moans—every twitch and squeeze of your pussy leaving him breathless. “Come on, little lamb,” He groans, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and his groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all him. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And you tense up, your body convulsing and arching upwards as his thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the grass and debris and Toji’s weight cases you in.

You feel boneless, lethargic with your movement. You feel when the man gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwear back on. You hear it when he sighs, something deep and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. Yet, somehow, it all comes back to you in a flash. You sit up, head throbbing, and stare up at him. Wide-eyed and fearful.

“Please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.”

He grins, “I think we can work something out.”

a/n: excuse the corny ending i couldn’t help myself

[mingus-archives]

Saviors, Suffering, and Isolation in Across the Spiderverse

Something that really stuck with me from Spider-Man Across the Spiderverse was the theme of suffering inherent in the hero narrative (and specifically the spiderman narrative) and how we can perpetuate suffering in our justification of it.

In the intro to the movie, Gwen gives background into how she became Spiderwoman. She explains the traumatic experience of inadvertently causing her friend Peter’s death and says that because of this she can’t have friends. We see how this has caused her to further suffer, forcing a wedge between her and her band, her and her father, and her and Miles. She is obsessed with not letting a loved one suffer at her hands in the same way again. Furthermore, she is okay letting herself suffer through isolation as long as her loved ones are safe.

Then, we meet Miguel, Spider Man 2099, who fervently defends his and his organization’s behavior as making sure some suffering occurs in order to prevent larger suffering. Miguel took over a different dimension’s Miguel, allowing him to have a daughter and live a happy life. However, this dimension fell apart because he was an anomaly and caused that dimension’s timeline to not flow as it should. After this, he forms the Spider-society, which is intent on making sure that anomalies are taken care of and, more importantly, that canon events happen.

This is where the main conflict of the plot arises, as a canon event in the timeline is the death of the police captain, who in Miles’s universe happens to be his father. Miguel insists that Miles has to let his father die, and rages that Miles has already helped another Spiderman (Pavitr) avoid that fate. This is not a surprise to Miguel’s character; he is tormented by his attempts to lead a happy life and therefore believes that suffering is necessary. 

However, what is striking is that all the spider-people seemingly stand by Miguel except Miles. The characters we know, namely Peter B Parker, Jessica Drew (Spiderwoman), and Gwen all support Miguel’s perspective. This seems wildly out of character for these individuals who we’ve seen be insistent on saving people if it is in their power to do so. But it is important to note that, besides Gwen, they’ve already suffered that canon event of the police captain dying. For them, that was a necessary trauma in their lives that allowed them to be who they are today. It is in a sense a passive justification. They did all they could, but the captain had to die. But for Miles (and Gwen), the death of the captain is something they’re being forced to allow or even facilitate. They have to make the active choice to let their captains, both their fathers, die. Miles is insistent that this is wrong, and that there is another way to live.

As a story centered on characters of colors (and minority characters given Gwen is implied to be trans in the movie), this can be seen as a message about how some communities or people of color treat suffering. That is, the belief in many minority communities like mine (Hmong) is that suffering is a necessary evil to endure for the good of everyone. They suffered, so their children must suffer as well. However, this mindset moves from a coping mechanism to harm when, upon finding no or a lack of suffering, we fabricate suffering onto others like us because we believe this is necessary for success. Instead of finding help, lifting one another up, leaning on each other, we lean into the suffering, the pain, and the isolation. We are unduly harsh to our children, or we don’t try to disrupt the unjust systems that harmed us, or we just let bad situations be.

The Spider Society may be a group of spider-people, but there is surprisingly little care being given to one another’s wellbeing. Instead, they all look at each other and empathize rather than offer real care. I understand rather than let’s understand together. The coldness of this community is made clear with how  harshly Jessica treats Gwen when she screws up, with how cruelly Miguel treats Peter (”I’ve had enough of you”), and most humorously with the therapy scene where the therapist spiderman rudely remarks, “Let me guess your Uncle Ben died?” The spider-people are all heavily traumatized individuals, and instead of healing they’ve worked themselves into a web of control and fatalism. By accepting that suffering as inevitable, they create the suffering of Miles.

As a daughter of a refugee, I grew up hearing the message that suffering made us strong, that it allowed them to be successful. Children who didn’t suffer were spoiled and grew up to be ungrateful wastes to society. I heard stories in my LGBTQ+ community about how young queers take things for granted and don’t understand how hard it once was. And when I suffered myself, I felt a similar urge to say that this suffering made me a better person. And this is so hard to fight because if you acknowledge the suffering wasn’t needed, that means you shouldn’t have had to go through it, that it was unjustified, that it was a random cruelty of the universe. And that is a tough truth to accept, because that means it didn’t have to be that way. Uncle Ben didn’t have to die for Spiderman to live.

In order to let our stories continue, instead of repeating the past, as well as help our communities Across the Spiderverse asks us to let go of the suffering and the belief we needed it. It is not what makes us heroes. It is not what makes us good. Instead, like Miles and Gwen (by the end of the movie), our heroism is in our love and our loved ones, and in the belief that there is a better way.

[danikamariewrites]

Could I request part 2 for Inventor, where reader gets kidnapped by Baron so that they can make things exclusively for him. And the motiv behind this is that the reader refused to share one of there inventions with him because they knew he would use it for himself and not share it with his people 🙄

Hope this isn't too big of an ask, happy writing!!

Myth

Azriel x reader

A/n: you can read Inventor here! Also this is a long one lol

Warnings: kidnapping, mentions of torture, injuries, some violence, and some typos bc I don’t think I got them all sorry

A guard ripped off your blindfold violently, almost taking a fistful of your hair with it. You blinked rapidly adjusting to your surroundings.

You sat tied to an old wooden chair in an ornate office decorated in the colors of autumn.

Well shit. If you knew mouthing off in the last High Lords meeting would land you here you would’ve kept your mouth shut.

No you wouldn’t have.

Beron clearly wanted something from you. And you had a feeling you knew what it was. Azriel’s spies had gathered intel that Beron had been keeping what was found in the mines a secret. The guesses had been anything from rare metals to ancient fae weapons.

Footsteps from the hall grew closer until the door creaked open. You counted eight people, seven guards and Beron. Two guards approach you, lifting your chair to bring you face to face with Autumn’s High Lord.

He was casually leaning against his desk, flipping through a file on his desk you were sure had your name on it. “If it isn’t little miss know-it-all. I’m so glad you could join us.” His tone was sickly sweet and each word dripped with a sick sarcasm. It made your stomach do flips before tying your intestines in a knot.

You didn’t know how long you’d be able to hold out. You’re not trained like Azriel. You can’t fight and you definitely won’t do well under torture. But you’d do your best for him, for your court.

“Let’s see here,” he drawls, flipping open the file. “Multiple awards since the start of your university days, graduated the top of your class, and come highly suggested from three out of seven High Lords. You’ve been around the world and co-discovered countless new technologies.” You knew where this was going.

You had been backed into this corner before by powerful men. They were less powerful than Beron and you had never been tired up before, but that’s beside the point. You wanted to snip back at him but now seemed like a good time to hold your tongue.

When Beron looked at you he had a raised brow and a confused scowl on his lips. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath, pulled your lips super tight, and were holding your eyes open really wide. You’re not the greatest in social situations. Letting out a huff you try to relax into the rickety wood chair. “What do you want from me?”

An evil smirk slowly pulled at his lips. “I need you to…reinvent an old weapon for me.” His spies were right in their guesses. Cauldron, you didn’t even want to think about what this weapon could do. “And if I refuse?” You couldn’t help the tremble in your voice or the slight wobble of your lip. “You have two hours to decide. If you don’t we’ll make sure the shadowsinger gets your body back.” His tone told you it would be in pieces.

Beron adjusted his jacket rousing his desk to sit. Two more guards appeared in front of you as they untied you, switching out the ropes for metal shackles. As the ushered you out into the hall you saw Eris waiting for you. The tall male looked calm and composed. You knew on the inside he was panicking due to the rash decision his father made. Eris roughly grabbed your upper arm dragging you to his side. “I will escort her.”

“We were commanded by the High Lord to take her.” The guard that shackled you said. Eris raised a brow, wearing a similar expression to his father’s. “Then you can accompany us.” You began the long trek down to the dungeons of the Forest House. You kept your head down the whole way knowing that if you looked up at Eris you’d give everything away. All the secrets you’ve kept all the meticulous planning your mate and brother-in-laws have accomplished would be for nothing with a single pleading look.

A guard opened the bared cell door as Eris kept your arm in his firm grip. Shoving you onto the cold stone to keep up the facade Eris slammed the door shut behind you.

You held your hands out to break your fall. As your knees hit the floor your hands skid across the stone floor. You suck in a breath, pushing yourself to sit against a wall to inspect your hands. Your palms are red and fresh cuts litter your skin. You press them against your pants to stop the stinging pain.

Eris scoffs at you. “Pathetic. I’ll be back in an hour to see if you’ve made your decision. Think fast little tinkerer.” He teases, turning away on his heel without giving you a second look he and the guards leave you.

You are not going to cry, you say to yourself. I am going to be smarter than Beron. I’m going to get out of this and Az and the rest of the group will come for me.

——

Rhys, Azriel, Cassian land on the balcony of the House of Wind entry way, returning home from Illyria. All three were hoping to find their mates waiting to embrace them. Instead they were greeted with silence. The brothers look to each other in confusion as Azriel sends out his shadows to search the house.

Taking a few more steps into the house they tensed at the sound of little footsteps rushing toward them. Nyx appeared, launching himself at his father, a little frown on his face. “Daddy!” Rhys scoops the little boy to his chest kissing the top of his head. Rhys could sense his little boy’s distress. “What’s wrong buddy?”

“They’ve been looking all day, but no one can find Auntie y/n.” Azriel’s eyes went wide. His heart stopped for a moment as he pulled on the bond, but nothing. Your side was dark. How could he not have felt that you were gone.

Gwyn and Elain came rushing in next followed by Lucien and two of Azriel’s shadows. “I found something!” The priestess exclaimed, waving a piece of paper in the air. Lucien immediately recognized it as stationary from Eris’s desk. He snatched it from Gwyn’s hand, his eyes moving quickly over the note as he took in each word. His face grew grim.

Finishing the note he looked to Azriel. A frown pulling at the males lips. “What!” The word came out loud and agitated. Lucien hesitantly handed the note to Azriel as he began to explain. “It’s from Eris. Y/n has been taken to Autumn. He’s not sure what Beron wants with her.”

Azriel’s hands were shaking with rage. Gwyn noticed, quickly taking Nyx from his father’s arms and rushing out before something drastic happened. With a look from Lucien Elain nodded her head, turning to follow Gwyn.

Azriel’s shadows began to swarm in a violent pattern. In and out, whispering in his ears as they pass by, threatening to plunge the foyer into darkness. Cassian gripped his shoulders tight. Forcing his brother to look at him. “We will get her Az. But you need a level head.” Azriel’s face was stuck in an angry scowl. His brows pinched and his hazel eyes darkened with rage. Azriel turned his head to look at Rhys. Giving the High Lord a look that said he would go to Autumn without permission if he had to.

Rhys pushed the males apart. “We can’t go in alone. We need more than us.” He looked to Lucien who shook his head. “I’m sorry. But I can’t go back there, not until he’s gone.” Rhys nodded in understanding. “We need the Valkyries with us then.”

“I won’t be subtle.” Azriel gritted out through clenched teeth. “I don’t expect you to be brother. Beron will answer for his crime of taking your mate, I swear it.” Some of the tension let up in Azriel’s body at the promise of Beron suffering. “Let’s get everyone together and head out.”

——

You had been staring at the wall willing yourself to feel nothing for the Mother knows how long. The stinging in your hands had subsided but your knees ached. They were definitely bruised but you couldn’t bring yourself to check. A door at the end of the hall opened, footsteps echoed down the narrow hall as they got closer to your cell. You prayed it was Eris returning alone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the lordling staring at you. Eris leaned casually against the bars, like this was a casual meeting between friends. “So, what is it? He won’t tell anyone but the guards.” You blink rapidly to keep your tears away as you spoke. “It’s a weapon. I don’t what kind. He just wants me to rebuild it or fix it or whatever.” Your voice came out monotone. Truthfully you couldn’t be bothered with this conversation. You just want to be out of your cell. Eris let out a huff leaning back from the bars. He paced in a small circle before facing you again.

“I sent word to Lucien who has no doubt told your mate and the other two.” Your heart rate picked up at the mention of Azriel. You had tried to pull on the bond but no luck. When you were taken you were hit with a heavy dose of fae bane. It must still be in your system. Azriel and the others would be on their way soon.

“Tell him yes.” Eris froze, staring at you with wide eyes. “What?” He whisper yelled. You stood, slowly making your way to the cell door. “I’ll work on it. Take me to Beron.” Eris looked like he was torn. If he took you to Beron Azriel would make sure his death was slow and painful. “If you don’t take me I’ll just start yelling for the guards.” An uncomfortable pause fell between the two of you.

Opening your mouth as if to yell for a guard Eris shushed you. “Fine, fine I’ll take you.” The punishment his father would bestow upon him would be worse than Azriel if Beron found out Eris was with you when you made up your mind. Snapping on his mask of cruel heir Eris called for a guard. You were surrounded by the same group of guards as Eris brought you back up to the main house.

Beron met you at the entrance to the house looking smug. Like he’d already won this little game. “I’m glad you’ve made the right decision.” He leads you past his office to a room with two more guards posted at the door. They stand aside to let you, Beron, and the others through but not Eris. You don’t look at him in case your emotions betray you.

Beron gestured for you to sit at the work bench. He left the cuffs on you as a reminder that you are still a prisoner. Beron carefully removes the cloth hiding the weapon from you. You sucked in a harsh breath at the broken sword in front of you. This thing was supposed to be a myth. But here was the sword of the first High Lord of the Day court sitting in front of you. “The last known name for it was Claíomh Solais.”

You nodded along at Beron’s words. “The myth is that the first High Lord of Day received it as a gift from the Mother herself. He had kept the sun rising and as a thank you the Mother gave him Claíomh Solais so he could protect the day from his enemies who wanted eternal darkness.”

“Correct. My miners found it like this. Cut clean in two. Fix it, but add something more.” What else could Beron possibly want this thing to do? Even if you could fix it, the sword was powerful enough. You nod in agreement and he leaves without a word, keeping two guards inside and the two outside.

——

Azriel was vibrating with anticipation. They were right outside the house. You were in there and Beron was doing Cauldron knows what to you. Rhys laid a reassuring hand on Azriel’s shoulder. He felt Rhys tapping on his mental shields and opened them enough for Rhys to say, “Soon, we are just waiting on Eris.”

The doors to the Forest House swung open and Eris stepped out onto the landing. He strode back and forth until his eyes landed on where Azriel was keeping the six of them hidden with his shadows. Eris whistled as if he were calling his hounds telling Rhys to make his move. He reached out to the minds of the guards at the front of the house. Making sure none of them would be bothered by the presence of the Night Court.

Clearing the front garden and massive stone steps Eris lead them into the house. Azriel let his shadows loose to look for you. They had been restless since Azriel found out you were missing and they were eager to bring you back to their master.

Rhys kept his hold on the guards they passed while making sure the ones ahead stayed where they were as well. “This is over kill you know. I got him go back out to the mines for another look.” Nesta scoffed at him. “You think we’d risk y/n’s life on your word?” Eris rolled his eyes and kept walking fast. Coming up on the room where you were being kept Azriel threw out his arm, hitting Eris square in the chest and bringing the group to a halt. Shadows come flying back down the hall whispering their findings to Azriel about the guards and your wellbeing.

“Two in, two out. I’ll go, the rest of you guard Rhys.” Eris tried to get him to wait but Azriel stared running down the hall, a dagger in each hand. Azriel threw the daggers. Each finding their mark flawlessly in the throat a of the guards. Shadows caught the bodies from thudding to the floor, keeping them pressed against the wall as they continued to struggle for air. Azriel quickly rapped his knuckles on the door and stood to the side.

The door opened a crack for the guard to see. He squinted, cautiously opening the door he looked to one side. Before he was able to find Azriel he grabbed the guard by the back of his neck and twisted until he was lifeless in his arms. Azriel threw the male down on the floor entering the room. When his eyes landed on you the bond hummed to life in his chest. His protective instincts to get you to safety practically blinding him with rage. The last guard would be the one to unfortunately take the brunt of that anger.

Azriel punched, and punched, and punched until the sound of you crying out his name brought him back to his conscious self. Unable to hold your tears back you broke down. Azriel made his way over to you, picking you up bridal style. “It’s ok. It’s ok baby, I got you. We’re gunna get these off you when we get home, ok.” You nod vigorously against his chest as you were unable to get a word out thanks to your hysterical tears.

Before he could leave you pulled on his leathers for him to wait. With renewed adrenaline rushing through your body you fumbled your way around the work table. Your hands messily picking up a leather strap, the cloth, and stacked the two pieces of the sword on the cloth. You wrapped them up tight and clutched it to your chest. You turn to Azriel waiting for him to pick you up again.

Grabbing you he hurries back down the hall. You toss the wrapped up sword to Cassian for safe keeping as you all fled from the Forest House. Eris was no where in sight. You assumed he went to stall his father before he noticed you were missing.

Sunlight blinded you. Before your eyes could adjust darkness surrounded you and the world fell away. The salty air blowing off the Sidra pierced your nostrils, the sound of wings flapping calmed you as they slowly brought you to the house of wind.

Azriel fell to his knees on the marble floor. His warm scarred hands cradling your face as he rested his forehead against yours. He apologized over and over for not knowing you were gone. For leaving you as Beron’s prisoner for so long.

Rhys gently removed the cuffs from your wrist. You flung your arms around Azriel, telling him it was ok. That you’re safe with him now. Pulling away from him slightly you looked into his tear filled eyes. “I’m ok Az. You got me.” Your mate gives you a tight lipped smile, closing his eyes to force the last of his tears out. “I got you.” He whispered back.

[venuscrashed]

Both Miles x Male!Spiderman!Reader pt 2

Here’s the poorly written seconded part. I’m starting to realize I can’t write fighting scenes that good, or write good in general.

Also I’m on a week long trip so I can’t really update and/or write so apologies.

FEM Readers DNI 18 + blogs DNI

PT 1 PT 3

You three didn’t hesitate to attack. The prowler suited up and ran towards the both of you, his anger obvious in the way he fought. Miles was laughing, taunting the other.Your Miles imitated the actions of a boxer, saying some stupid remark while you jumped over both their heads and swung around them. You glided in the air and came back around to kick the Prowler in the back. He turned around and you both engaged in a battle of punches and kicks. He was trained for moments like these, punching with his strength and his movements like liquid. You punched quickly while kicking him. He was pushing you backwards towards the window. He punched you, his claw scratching your face while you barely dodged. You spun around and kicked him, using your strength to send him back.

The prowler fell back but jumped back up staring directly at you. His claws moved into another mode. The edges gained padding and his movements were slower. He took quick steps towards you and aimed for your gut. Before he could punch you you moved and grabbed his fist, rolling onto the floor while throwing him to the other side of you. You heard him sigh before he aimed for your face.

You both laid on the ground while trying to kick and punch each other. You dragged your foot up to his face while he was punching you on his side. It didn’t take long for Miles to web him and drag him towards himself. “Let us go!” Miles pulled with more and more strength, messing up at times. “We need to go home. We’re trying to save my dad! Our dad!”

You ran towards the window before you heard crashing behind you. Your Miles was laying on the floor in the kitchen with pots and pans around him. The Prowler stalked towards him, standing over him as if he was a better being. 

“Your dad,” he corrected. “And you’ll save him, if you’re a good enough hero.”

The Prowler looked back at you and ran towards you, his claws back to normal now. You aimed for the roof and shot your web in an attempt to escape.

“Miles,” you yelled. They both looked at you and you took the moment to send the Prowler into the wall. “Let’s go!”

Without missing a beat, your Miles shot a web outside and swung away. You ran to the window when you heard the Prowler groaning. Looking back you saw nothing. He had disappeared, the wind had flown through the whole apartment, something wasn’t right. The conversation they had earlier seemed too important for the Prowler to just leave.

“Where-,” you were caught off with a mechanical hand around your mouth. You were bashing around in his arms while he whispered sweet nothings into your ears. He went on and on how you were like the one from his universe and how your Miles no longer had you. He was dragging you into the stairway slowly, your arms and feet were moving around not hitting anything.

He stopped, “Calm down pretty boy. He’s back and you don’t want me to fight him.” You froze at this right of the stair way you can see Miles looking around the apartment. He had noticed your absence and you would do anything to go back to him and you will. “They’re now calm.” He took his hand off of your mouth, his grip slightly looser. You noticed how his aura changed around you, it seemed softer. Like he was protecting someone he loved.

You refused to believe that there was an evil version of Miles out there. After learning about the multiverse, you realize there are many versions out there, some worse than this. Miguel talked about the spider and how Miles was supposed to be the true Prowler. This Miles just needed someone like you, his universe version of you, maybe that's why he’s obsessed with you. 

“Miles?” He hummed. “I’m sorry.” You elbowed him in the face and shot a web across the apartment. Your Miles saw you, his eyes lighting up and a smile across his face, you swung towards him and picked him up, swinging away.

“What happened?” He wrapped his arms and legs around you while he was supported by your hand in his waist.

“Nothing. Let’s go home.” The cool breeze calmed you two down. Memories of your dates replaying in your mind. How you two worthless take turns swinging while the other holds onto each other. You two were in sync like muscle memory.For a moment nothing but peace and adrenaline was felt. You two were going home but the sounds of the city being destroyed behind you ruined it. “This guy doesn’t quit,” Miles sighed.

“What did you talk to him about?” He stiffened in your arm. His grip on you tightened while you swung faster. “Miles. What did you guys talk about?”

He awkwardly chuckled,” You.” You two exchanged looks, ”Hey you can’t get mad at me. I was trying to distract him from you so you could save me. Besides it’s not like he’s ma-NO HE’S MAD. SWING FASTER.” The Prowler had caught up to you two running from roof to roof. “MILES!”

Miles let go of you and dropped to the roof below. He started to run and fight the Prowler. They moved fast and around the whole building. Webs and punch marks littered the roof, you took this opportunity to get the portal open.

You prepped the gadget, putting your blood into the vile to go back home when the Prowler grabbed your suit from behind. “Let him go!”

Miles and…Miles were still fighting. Your blood finger was dripping while you tried to punch the other Miles. “Leave him with me,” he said calmly. “You don’t deserve him.”

The portal was opening up way too early for your liking. “No. Don’t you piece of-“ you were thrown back while your Miles stepped in front of you. You were tired to say the lease. Being thrown around and it didn’t help that the portal was opened. Sighing, you leaped up and raced towards the two. There was no time to waste, there were lives at stake. You need to be the hero needed in that universe. They were perfectly lined up with the portal. You grabbed your Miles and ran into the portal, only for the Prowler to grab your suit and fall in with you two.

[frostbitebakery]

Hi :D 👀👀 I'm very much intrigued by Surrender, Please!!! <3

The evil!Codywan AU that takes over my brain whenever I’m feeling especially volatile! They travel dimensions and of course got caught up in good!Codywan’s universe.

.

“You love me,” Cody grits out, roughly squeezing Obi-Wan’s body to his own. “You promised.”

“But—“

“No.”

Obi-Wan is shaking like a leaf in his arms, the pieces of him clattering apart, and Cody won’t have it.

“It’s calling me,” Obi-Wan rasps out.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow,” he begs, tightens his grip and presses his nose into the grey-tinted neck, the red veins. “You have me. You know you can’t lose me.”

“It would destroy me,” Obi-Wan agrees softly and a part in Cody’s chest relaxes in an increment. “I can’t lose you.”

And Cody can’t lose him. Not any more than he already has, like he lost himself.

“Help me turn around, please,” Obi-Wan orders softly after a while. Tremors still flit across his limbs but it’s getting better, slowly.

Together they take care not to aggravate Obi-Wan’s knee, Cody offering his body as a brace as always. Golden eyes flick up to his face before they vanish under grey eyelashes.

Sometimes he wonders when Obi-Wan lost all his colors except gold and red. Maybe it started when Cody caught him staring at the Open Circle Fleet insignia more and more often, lost in thought and grief.

“You’re not letting me go, are you?” The question is hidden in the robes and blanket, careful in its presentation as if there’s more than one answer.

Cody rubs his nose against grey hair, his lips against a grey forehead. “I’m not strong enough to do that.”

“You aren’t,” Obi-Wan says, echoes of mischief in his voice. He curls into himself, into Cody. “They want to see monsters.”

Cody glances at the mirrored transparisteel window along one wall. Their counterparts, the good versions, he thinks with a sneer, are probably watching. Watching and waiting.

“They’re wondering what made us this way,” Obi-Wan continues, voice raspy and rough ever since the gold broke his eyes. “They’re wondering where our roots are in their heads.“

[arafilez]

☆ ⼂ SIGNIFICANT (B)OTHER ﹗

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜[ hjs x fem!reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤfluff, slight e2l 𓏧 you are very tired of the fact that everyone believes Han Jisung is the picture-perfect boy of the school ㅤ warnings none ㅤ﹢ㅤ1.2k wc

You looked around the school locker waiting for your friend to enter. Tapping your feet impatiently you closed your phone throwing it inside as Jongho was late for the nth time. As you turned away from the locker a strong scent of deodorant filled your nose and you hated how you recognized it immediately.

Taking a deep breath you clicked your tongue cursing Jongho when you came to face to face with Jisung. A smile plastered to his face, a tie perfectly attached to his neck, and proper full sleeves like the best boy.

Except he was not!

You see you hated Han Jisung, okay maybe hate was a strong word. No, you really did hate him. You hated his perfect aura, how he had everyone swooning over him and you hated how much of a model student he was. He was always so sweet and sugary with his words that people overlooked the pure evil residing within him.

“Sweetheart, long time no see,” you hear his voice speak to you, which you would admit was rather annoyingly squeaky than melodious.

“Don’t call me that” You grit your teeth looking at him as he smiled sweetly. You rolled your eyes once and left before he could further comment anything.

As usual, Jongho got scolded for being late to class and he made his way to you after his scolding and sat down. Giving his big gummy smile he offered you a piece of chocolate before withdrawing it seeing your glaring face.

“So someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he said smiling as you gave him a cold stare.

“If someone wasn’t late today I wouldn’t have had to face Mr Asshole,” you gritted your teeth at Jongho who just replied with a shrug.

You looked away from him your eyes directly landing on Han Jisung in the corner bench of the first row and your breath got stuck in your throat. There he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes and you stared back. All until that cocky smirk returned to his face and you looked away silently groaning at yourself.

“Can’t take your eyes off him now huh?” Jongho whispered as you elbowed him slightly.

“I am not staring,” you whispered back.

“Sure, you are not, your eyes just happen to get stuck on Han Jisung,” he giggled as you glared at him for probably the nth time that day.

“Jjong cut it out, I swear, it’s not like his annoyingly handsome face attracts me,” you scoffed looking away.

Jongho snickered saying, “Sweetie I am your best friend, I have heard you muttering his name in your sleep.”

“That was one time,” you hissed at him as he shook his head getting tired of your denials.

“Just admit you like him,” where is the harm?” Jongho sighed as you shook your head and pouted.

You did not like Han Jisung quite possibly. He was the most annoying person ever in the universe, loud- not that you were not loud, you were just equally loud and had squirrel-like features with squishy cheeks that you just wanted to pinch and a cute face which made you want to kiss his nose that scrunches up when he laughs but such a beautiful figure which was admirable and you knew he was a dancer s his thin waist just makes you want to, and what the hell were you thinking?

No, you hated him and where were these thoughts even from, they are so stupid. No, you most definitely hated him.

The school bell rang as Jongho bid you goodbye saying he would be going to meet his seven other friends. You knew them all, all seven boys were nice and you would hang out often before. But after they all left for college your meets became less regular. Jongho still made time but you couldn’t.

You walked towards the school library which was open for two more hours for studious students. Walking inside, you went straight to the Physics section searching for a book on Quantum mechanics. You had an inventory project due and a quarter of your result depended on it.

The library was fairly empty and your shoes clicked a bit as you scanned through the books in the aisle. Suddenly your eyes caught a book on the upper shelf- Feynman Lectures Volume One. Blinking your eyes rapidly you questioned when your school library got such a good book.

You were not tall at all and thus you slightly jumped to get it. First try- failed, second try- almost had it, third try- curse the librarian for keeping the book on that shelf.

As you got ready for your fourth try you jumped suddenly at a voice behind you, “How long are you going to try short stuff?”

You spun around instantly replying, “Bold of someone to say who isn’t that tall either.”

“Tall enough to reach the book sweetheart,” he smirked leaning over your face and then looking up swiftly took out the book from the shelf.

“Feynman Lectures, how do you even understand it?” he questioned pouting and putting down the book on the table.

“I will at least try unlike your dumb ass,” you bit back your tongue knowing full well it was a lie. He was the smartest student in school and the most studious.

“Really, sweetheart?” he smirked hovering his face over your nose.

“Stop calling me that,” you fumed but it was more of a breathless sentence under his intense stare as you felt yourself getting hot and your heartbeat picking up in an instant.

“You are stupidly obvious you idiot, I know very well you like me,” Jisung whispered breath fanning your face as your back hit the bookshelf in shock.

“What? No, you overconfident man, I don’t,” you scoffed lying to his face as he bit back a smile.

Walking towards you he held your hands and said, “Well then fine, I guess I should just stop liking you and get over you, I mean since you don’t like me,” and he smiled, that same cocky smirk that you so much want to wipe off his face.

So you did.

Pulling by his collar you kissed him as he stumbled a little and then kissed back smiling into the kiss. It was soft and rough at the same time as you felt his hand cup your cheeks and lips blend. You both pulled back after a few seconds, you looking away feeling shy while Jisung rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

“Um, I got your book down,” he whispered looking at the ground as you let out a soft laugh and looked up at him grinning stupidly.

“Well then might as well our first date be here,” you said softly, playing with the hems of your skirt as he smiled saying, “Sure, sweetheart.”

“Stop oh my god,” you whined knowing full well he won’t. Not that you want him to though. 

ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤmy first ever fic on tumblr, reposting from my deleted account, thank you for supporting. cries. the third picture is from @kyrjnie and her microscope ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr ㅤmain mlistㅤ skz mlistㅤ navi ㅤ to add to taglist

© arafilez on tumblr. please don't copy and repost my work as your own

[inlovewithpandora]

- Let Me In -

Pairing: Hobie x fem!Spider!reader

Request: [ 🎸 anon ] Hello! I have a request for a Hobie x reader:) | If you are okay with it (it's ok if not!) can you do a comfort fic where reader is struggling with suicidal thoughts + self harm and they haven't really been taking care of themselves properly and is just always thinking they shouldn't be alive ect. Then one day Hobie comes to their house through their bedroom window (who needs doors?) but he finds them in their bathroom abt to self harm and comforts them.

Synopsis: Being Spiderwoman hasn't been an easy task for you. The sacrifice, dedication, and having to turn your life upside down to accommodate your powers was making living day to day difficult for you so you begin to wonder if you should take matters into your own hands and end your suffering.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, act of self-harm (and lightly descriptive) mention of blood, mention of scars and wounds, crying, reader struggling with depression/illness, Hobie comforting reader and being there for her

If any of the content above makes you uncomfortable please DNI!!!

Author’s Note: Thank you for sending this req in! I hope you enjoy and that it meets your expectations! This was a really good request and I enjoyed writing it even though my heart was breaking for reader. Let me know what you think by sending an anonymous ask or comment if you feel comfortable!

Word Count: 1.1k

Extra: Requests are open! Please read rules before requesting! || Likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated❤️! Links: Navigation || Atsv Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

As you sit on the rim of your bathtub, you couldn’t help but look at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was scattered across your head, your eyes were sunken and puffy, and your body was covered with old battle wounds from fighting different evils of the universe, but the most fresh scars were the ones that adorned your arms.

Being Spiderwoman hasn't been an easy task for you. The sacrifice, dedication, and having to turn your life upside down to accommodate your powers were making living day to day difficult for you. Coming home with fresh wounds every night began to take a physical and mental toll on your health. The stress and pressure of protecting the city of Brooklyn was starting to become too much. You wanted to talk to Hobie, but you didn’t want to worry him with your problems, so you decided to keep your feelings bottled up which made you resort to self-harm, hoping to release some of your tension and finally feel a sense of relief.

The more you began to cut, the more you distanced yourself from the world. You haven’t been to HQ, spending time with your friends, and most importantly you haven’t talked to Hobie in almost a week. Your new way of spending your time was cooped up in your apartment, drowning in your sorrows.

It has gotten to the point where your pain became so insufferable that you began to think if living was worthwhile anymore. You couldn’t go on like this, dealing with the weight of being Spiderwoman on your shoulders. Thinking about putting yourself in the face of danger and praying that you didn’t get severely injured or even worse: ending up plummeting to your death.

You felt like if you were going to do that, you might as well leave the world on your own terms, the way you thought would be appropriate. Were you currently thinking clearly? No. This was the illness talking. The older, happier version of yourself would never even let thoughts like this cross her mind, but now… now it was too late. This was the only way to make that dark cloud that hung over your head move away.

Hobie has been worried about you. The only time he talks to you now is through text and when he finds a way to get a hold of you, the conversations were dry, so he can’t even get a true feeling to see how you’re doing.

When he finishes his patrol duties, he decides to swing by your apartment, just to make sure you’re okay. Once he’s outside your window, he opens it slowly and climbs inside. When his feet hit the floor, he turns around and closes the window behind him, then tries to figure out where you are.

As his eyes scan the room, he locates the sound of sobs from the bathroom which alerted him, thinking you got hurt from slipping in the shower or something of that sort. When he reaches the bathroom door, he peeps his head inside, which reveals you with tears pouring down your cheeks while you run a razor across your skin. As Hobie watches the blood trickle down your arm and drip onto your marble floor, his stomach churns and his heart breaks at the scene unraveling in from him.

As you raise the sharp object again, almost pressing it deep into your arm, Hobie barges in, not being able to watch you hurt yourself any longer. When the door widens and you see him looking at you with a concerned and worried expression, you drop the razor, pull your jacket sleeves down, and rush over to the other side of the bathroom.

“Leave, Hobie.” You turn your back towards him, not wanting him to see how you’ve completely let yourself go. This isn’t how you wanted your reunion with him to go, you cutting and him bearing witness, having to see you in such a distraught state, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

Hobie walks up to you, attempting to wrap his arms around, but you swat them away as more tears fill your eyes. “Hobie, I said leave! I don’t want you here! I-I don’t want you to see me!” As you attempt to raise your voice, it begins to crack due to the sob trying to make an appearance.

“Love, please,” Hobie's heart gets so heavy with each moment. He didn’t know you were doing this, he never knew that you had a burden so heavy that you had to resort to this method to find a sense of peace. At this moment, all he wants to do is be here for you and help as much as he can provide.

He gently places his arm on your shoulder, hoping you would turn around and face him. “Let me in, allow me to help you. I promise I won’t judge. I-I just want to help you, please.” The sincerity in his voice soothes you enough to turn around and face him. Without wasting another second, you run into his arms and begin to cry into his chest. Hobie immediately embraces you, wrapping his arms around you to make you feel secure and comfortable, to let you know that he is here specifically to comfort you.

“It’s okay love, let it all out. I’m here for you now. I’m gonna help you through this.” He kisses your head softly as he rubs your back, continuing to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, letting you know that he’ll never leave your side no matter what.

Once your cries begin to lessen and you begin to calm down, you and Hobie sit down together. “I know you probably don’t wanna talk right now and that’s fine. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but I want to let you know that you don’t have to go through this alone. I will forever stand by your side through thick and thin, good and bad. No matter what, I will always love you and that’ll never change.” At this moment, you are so thankful for Hobie. He didn’t freak out on you, shame you, or force you to do anything which you appreciated. Knowing that Hobie saw you at your lowest and still accepted you meant the world to you.

“Thank you, Hobie.” You speak softly as you look up at him with glistening eyes, new tears ready to be shed, but this time they are tears of joy that you had someone like Hobie to lean on.

“Of course, now let’s clean up these cuts and then for the rest of the day, it’s just me and you.”

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[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

You look lonely… (Miguel O’Hara x Spider! Fem! Reader) Drabble

This is based off that one part of Bladerunner 2049. I saw a tiktok user use an ai voice thingy to make Miguel say it any I instantly thought of this. Not proofread. Also cried writing this lmao.

Alternative universe reader, antsy, reader mourning, vague implications of reader being depressed and wishes she was dead (??? idk if that’s the best way to describe it) ,Reader’s version of Miguel is dead, mentions of throw up, mentions of animal dissection (it’s one line about it, it’s the whole dissecting frogs in science class thing), no use of (Y/N).

Word count: 1k

Masterlist

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Your arms were beginning to grow sore, your vision continued to blurry and refocus underneath your mask, and your chest started to burn from the cold winter air. But you didn’t stop swinging. If you stopped swinging then you’d start to think, and you didn’t wanna think, not today.

It’s been a year since Miguel died. It’s been a year since you’ve started to lose purpose without his existence. He was… everything to you. The reason for your smiles and laughter, the reason you had hope for the world despite your first-hand experience seeing how evil mankind can be. He was the moon against your night sky. A beacon of light to follow during a time where you are shrouded in darkness and uncertainty.

You both met in high school during freshman year science class, when you were 14 and he was 15 You never really paid much mind to him at first. He was quiet, and somewhat shy, always sat at the front, he’d wear a pair of thick rim glasses and always had on crew neck sweaters. He was skinny but he wasn’t thin, he was quite lean from the looks of it, catching a small glimpse of his forearm once and a while when his sleeves would slide down a bit as he’d raise his arm to ask a question or answer one.

Your first real interaction together though was when your class was doing a unit on anatomy, and your class had to dissect frogs. You were partnered with Miguel, and everything was going well, until your stomach couldn’t handle it and you accidentally threw up on his lap. How he didn’t completely hate your guts after was a complete and utter miracle. He was so understanding about it, and assured you that he didn’t even like the jeans he was wearing that day and he was planning on tossing them anyways as you both made your way to the nurse’s office, you blabbing apologizes in between hiccups and sobs.

Since then you two became inseparable, late night movie marathons, “study” sessions where you’d end up talking about anything and everything other than your homework, him teaching you how to drive after he got his license in his old beat up Toyota Camry. When you first found out you had superpowers, he was listening to you ramble over the phone despite it being 2 am on a school night, helping you design and develop your web shooters and your costume, helping patch you up after particularly bad fights, always leaving his bedroom window unlocked for you just in case. He was your rock, unmoving against the constant waves of chaos your life had thrown at you. You could always count on him. It was you both against the word for the next 9 years after that fateful incident in freshman year.

Until a year ago today.

You wish you could go back in time, and stop him from following you as you made your way to time square. Tell him that if he followed you, he’d die and you can’t have that because without him, life felt so empty and devoid of happiness. Save him from the broken metal scrap that became lodged in his stomach that doc ock had thrown in your direction and you had dodged, not seeing him running towards you from behind. You wish you had more time to kiss him goodbye before death’s unforgiving hands took him from you. You wish death had taken you instead. It should have been you. It was supposed to be you.

It should have been you. It should have been anyone else. Anyone else but him. It shouldn’t have been him.

You couldn’t swing anymore. It started to hurt and you had to make sure you had enough web fluid to make it home. So despite your brain’s best efforts, you finally stopped swinging, landing and scaling the tallest building you were closest to before collapsing onto your back, and taking your mask off to properly catch your breath. You took in a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sounds of New York rather than the way your heart ached as you absentmindedly played with Miguel’s ring that you had on a chain around your neck. You were able to calm yourself down enough that you began to doze off, almost falling asleep until your spidey senses began to go off and you heard a weird nose behind you. You quickly got up and turned around, placing the necklace back into your suit just in time to see another Spider-person in blue and red suit walking through some weird portal. He was massive, it was honestly intimidating, you’ve faced larger men, but something about him was different… you couldn’t put your finger on it though.

You didn’t say anything as the thing he came through closed behind him and he stepped closer to you. Despite the mask on his face you could feel him staring into your soul, as if he was studying you.

“¿Que día… hmm?” he spoke in a soft tone, although the question felt rhetorical, you felt yourself nodding anyways, knowing what he said because you had picked up some Spanish from Mig. You didn’t get a catch to reply properly as he kept making his way towards you. (What a day…)

“You look lonely…” He stopped just out of arm’s reach.

“I can fix that.” Something about the way he said it made your stomach both twisted nervousness and erupted with butterflies, an odd warmth seeping into your chest and into your heart that you had thought had stopped beating long ago. Something about him seemed so… familiar…

“You look like a good spider…” The words feel like they should be seen as a taunt or condescending, some form of insult but the way he was saying it felt like he was genuinely praising you. You swallow the lump in your throat as you finally find the courage to speak.

“Who are you?”

His mask devolves into thousands of little pixels, before you're able to see his face. The sight draws a gasp out from your lips, you couldn’t stop your voice from cracking and your eyes from watering once more.

“Miggy?”